you & me (we've got ourselves a problem)
by Streaks of Hail
Summary: "I'm a Time Lady. Two hearts, one brain, the last of my kind. I've got all of time and space at the flick of a button, so," she turns to lean against the console with a cheery smile, "where do you want to go, Leopold Fitz?" (doctor who au)
1. Chapter 1

She picks him up like she did with all the other strays - in the midst of terrible, immoral danger (and also because she's curious).

He's brave (all of them are) the first time she finds him, stubbornly fending off a Sontaran with nothing but the end of a stiletto and his own wits. Jemma swoops in to save the day, as per usual, with her cleverness and her charm and her sonic screwdriver.

They lose someone in the process (they always seem to lose someone, and one day the weight of it might tear her apart, but for now she takes that weight and expels it at her enemies), a young, intelligent girl with curly hair and a dress adorned with flowers.

"I didn't even know her name," he whispers when they've won, when they're cleaning up the mess, when they're watching as the officials gently cover up the traces.

She offers him a sad smile. "I rarely do."

He gives her a once-over and then softly kneels down to the girl's body, closing her eyelids with a gentle sweep of his hands. She's struck by how touched she is when she spots the tears tracking his features.

"I forget sometimes," she remarks.

He glances up at her, eyes blue like her beloved TARDIS, hair golden like her regeneration energy. "Forget what?"

She can't help but laugh lightly. "How human you lot really are."

It's not until she's walking away that she hears him shift, hears him jump up and chase after her. "Where are you going? You can't just leave! You still have to stay for police questioning! And what do you mean by human? You don't mean to say - you're not an _alien_ , are you?"

He says the word like it's taboo, and she freezes for a split second. Then she pulls out her sonic screwdriver and whirls around to him with a giddy grin, all propaganda and show.

"You're quick on the mark, aren't you? Might be a new record for me, oh yes. Still, I'm afraid I can't hang around. Things to do, planets to save. You're not the only lot that needs rescuing, you know. The universe is a bloody whiney place, isn't it?"

She's searching for a spark, for a connection, for the signal in the back of her mind that's saying, _yes, him! he's the one!_ without even meaning to. And oh yes - she can sense it, tingling at the back of her neck. What would humans call it? Spidey-senses? She's not entirely sure but she likes the sound of that, so that it is.

"Sorry - did you say planets?" the man splutters again, and oh yes, the spark returns in full force. And it scares her. It scares her because this is how it always starts, how she always ends up digging herself in a hole too deep, but instead of getting herself out she ends up suffocating in the dirt, alone and cold, the last Time Lady in the Big Wide Universe, a murderer in her own right.

So instead she taps him on the nose with the sonic. "Oh, yes. Billions and billions, all waiting for you, Mr Clever Man with your big ideas and your tiny, tiny human brain and your singular heart. Maybe one day, if you're lucky, you'll see a shooting star. Or a meteor. Or perhaps another Dalek invasion - but we'll save that one for another century, shall we?" He blinks at her in confusion and suddenly she sighs, clicking her sonic screwdriver on. "When you wake up, you won't remember me. Well, perhaps a little bit, if you're not one of the dim ones, but I'll be nothing more than a dream. A lovely old dream, yeah? The one where some daft woman swoops in with her pretty blue box and her clever ideas."

She leans into his ear and whispers, "I'm the stuff of fairytales. Remember me, Jemma, and remember the adventures we never did have, the monsters we never did face, the stories we will never create."

Jemma drops her arm. His eyes go foggy, and she trails her arm down his, pressing a kiss to his cheek as golden energy flows from her lips and seeps into his very being like magic.

Then she's off, skipping towards her little blue box on another merry adventure. Humans, and their tiny minds. How is it possible they feel so much emotion with only one heart?

...

She's nearing her thousands when she meets him again. She's here on pure accident, having given in to impulse, and is now dancing through the gardens of planet Earth like she knows it better than the back of her hand.

(which is probably accurate; regenerations are _ever_ so disconcerting)

Somehow Jemma's managed to stumble into trouble again, because suddenly there's a high-pitched scream and then she's running, crashing through the luscious greens and yellows and reds to stumble into a clearing and -

"Nobody blink!" she shouts. "They're Weeping Angels, and if you stop watching them even for a moment you're out. And trust me, you do _not_ want to be out."

"It's her," breathes an awed voice. "It's her, it's really her."

...

They've defeated the Angels, saved the day. But for Jemma it's one never-ending mystery, one eternal merry-go-round until the day she finally dies. She rounds on him, him with the blue eyes and the curly hair and -

"You know me," she says fiercely, "how do you know me?"

"How did you - I mentioned that two days ago," he frowns.

"That's not important!" she snaps, eyes tracing his figure so closely that she's standing nose to nose with him, him flattened up against the wall with his hands in the air and her with her sonic out and her best thinking face on. "The real question - how do you remember me? I wiped your memories!"

He has the nerve to grin at her. "Guess I'm not as dim as you thought."

"This isn't funny," she retorts, but slowly she backs away, lets him drop his hand and straighten his sweater. "Who are you?"

"Fitz - uh - Leopold Fitz."

She scans him with a confused frown. "You're just a human. So why can you remember me?"

"Um - did you say _just_ a human?"

She holds a finger up to his lips. "Shush, I'm thinking." After a moment, she spins to stare at him thoughtfully. "How long has it been? Since we last met?"

"Uh, almost two years, I think," he shrugs.

"And you managed to remember me for two whole years? That's impossible," she says incredulously.

"Not impossible," he starts, a small glint of mischief working it's way up his features, "just genius."

For the first time, she cracks him a smug smirk. "You haven't seen genius yet, Leopold Fitz. Oh, you humans think you're everything, don't you? Centre of the universe."

And now it's his turn to be incredulous as he snorts at her. "You're talking as if we're not the only ones out here."

She merely gives him a suggestive grin and spins away, patting a little girl on the head and sending her away with a few coins to get an ice cream for trauma purposes. To her annoyance (but not her surprise), he trails after her, all full of questions and wonder and disbelief. This one's prime to peacocking, isn't he?

"Um - excuse me! That's the second time you saved me from those.. things. Those weird things. Are they aliens or what?" When she simply bends down to pick a flower, he shouts after her impatiently. "Hey! You've got to tell me something. And you can't exactly wipe my memory again. Look how well that turned out last time! For gods sake, I don't even know your name, how am I supposed to - "

"Jemma."

"What?" He blinks at her, clearly startled.

"Jemma. That's my name."

He seems stunned for a minute (oh, finally he's shut up), but then he shakes himself and advances forward. She can't help but roll her eyes and quicken her pace away from him, making a beeline for her beloved TARDIS.

"Alright then, Jemma. I have a lot of questions, and I think you owe me some answers."

Jemma smiles to herself.

Humans.

Such little brains, and yet such big capacity. Easily, she marches right up to the TARDIS and throws the doors open. He follows her in without hesitation, and she has to bite back her laughter when she hears his stutters of surprise.

It never gets old.

"But - but it's - "

" - bigger on the inside, yes," she finishes. "I've heard all the creative ones already so you might as well just not say anything at all."

Fitz shakes his head, eyes impossibly wide. "What is this, then?"

"The TARDIS. My TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space," she says giddily as she pulls a lever and dances around the console, fully intending to just drop him off at home, but the words spill out without her permission anyway. "Or, in simple human terms, it's a time machine."

Fitz looks utterly shocked, but she's not surprised to see the small smile curling up on his features. Humans all react differently, but Jemma picks her companions well.

"Who _are_ you?"

"I'm a Time Lady. Two hearts, one brain, the last of my kind. I've got all of time and space at the flick of a button, so," she turns to lean against the console with a cheery smile, "where do you want to go, Leopold?"

She's done it again. Picked up another stray when she hadn't entirely meant to, when she'd promised herself that she was done saving the world, done dragging innocents to the end of their days, done weeping over the faces she could never, ever see again.

But here she is, grinning excitedly at Leopold Fitz from across the console room as the TARDIS lurches and groans as per usual, skyrocketing through the Time Vortex like they've got nothing to spare.

...

"Planet Earth, 1946, New York City," Jemma says with an excited expression, running down the steps with her coat trailing behind her and a hat perched on her head. Fitz is dressed in typical 1940's attire, looking dashing in a grey suit as he trails after her.

They grind to a stop in front of the TARDIS doors, where Fitz looks suitably anxious. "This is it, then. This isn't some big wind-up? We've really travelled through time?"

She offers him a smile. "We've really, properly, travelled through time. If you don't want to see it, I can take you back home. You can go to bed, wake up in the morning and recall all of this, all of me, as a dream. You don't have to come with me."

He thinks for a moment. She can see the look in his eyes, brooding, pinching his nose in and his forehead creasing. Then he looks straight at her. "1946 - would it cause a paradox if I took back a souvenir?"

She laughs. He pushes the doors open.

(it all goes on from there)

...

"So, the 1940's," Jemma remarks as they stroll down the street, mingling after his wide-eyed discovery of time travel, "what do you think?"

Fitz glances about like he's scared someone's going to overhear them in a city full of bustling, busy people, leaning over to announce, "it's brilliant. Honestly brilliant. How is your - how does your box do that? Did you make it?"

"The TARDIS," she corrects, "and no, of course I didn't make the TARDIS. I borrowed her. Or rather, she borrowed me. We're on the run, her and I."

"And now I'm running with you," Fitz points out, suddenly all curiosity and naivety in that specifically _human_ fashion. "So what, are you some intergalactic criminal or something? Should I be worried?"

Jemma watches as he just about walks into a lamp post and stumbles his way through a crowd with a million apologies. "Not at all."

As if on cue, gun shots sound from nearby. An abrupt yell splits the air, and Jemma abandons the newspaper she'd been examining. "Okay," she amends. "Maybe a little bit."

She takes off at a run.

("Hey!" he shouts after her. "Why, exactly, are we running _towards_ the inevitable danger?")

...

They round the corner to see two humans (or at least, human on first sight). They're standing by a car, the male in a suit searching through the boot, and the woman in the red hat blowing the smoke away from her pistol.

"What are you doing?" Jemma demands as she crashes into the scene, Fitz right on her tail.

The woman looks surprised to see them there. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter," says the man, pulling a device out of the car. "They're civilians. They'll go blabbing to the police, and then where will we be?"

Another man gets out of the car, looking slightly concerned, but before anybody can do anything a button is pushed and Fitz crumples to the floor. Heart in her throat, she lurches to his side and scrambles for his pulse. Not here, not now, not on their very first escapade -

"He's asleep," she says in shock. She glances to the new trio. "What was that?"

"He'll be fine," drawls the man who pushed the button. "I invented it myself. He's just going to sleep for a little while."

"Be quiet, Howard," the woman says, glancing suspiciously at Jemma and Fitz. "You said your device puts people to sleep. So why is she still awake?"

Jemma grins. "Let's just say I'm not quite people."

...

They've landed in probably the worst possible time, but quite frankly Jemma's okay with it. The TARDIS always takes her where she needs to go, so she puts her faith in the time travelling machine (as she always does) and settles down to solve the mystery (again, like always).

Their names are Peggy Carter, Edwin Jarvis and Howard Stark, and quite honestly she's hitting herself for not having recognised them sooner. They're some of the greatest names in history - and while she may not agree with their morals, they've certainly got their alliances in the right place. Jarvis and Stark have taken off, but Carter sneaks them into her apartment with warnings of the rather obstinate woman who runs the place.

Fitz is curled up on the bed, but Jemma paces, running her hands through her hair.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Carter says. "But who are you?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm Jemma," she answers distantly. Suddenly getting a bright thought, she leaps to the window, poking her head out as she surveys the city below. "All of New York City. You're busy people, aren't you. Working for SHIELD and what-not. So what were the three of you doing down in an old, grungy alley?"

"It's silly," Carter says with hesitation. "You'll laugh."

Jemma offers Carter a small smile. "Look at my clothes, Margaret. Do I look like I come from this area? Silly is my middle name."

"Okay," the other woman relents. "There's been reports of people disappearing off the streets. Vanishing from graves. When I went to visit a friend of mine.. anyway. There's been strange disruptions all over the city. Vibrations where were they shouldn't be. Shadows in the streets. I've seen them. We were attacked, once. Howard, Jarvis and I. They got away, but they left something behind."

"Show me."

Carefully, she moves over to a painting on her wall and unhinges it. Slowly, she pulls brick by brick off from the wall until there's a small hole in which she pulls out something wrapped in cloth. "Here it is." She hands it over.

"That's an awful lot of security for one measly thing," Jemma remarks lightly.

"It's part of the job description when you work in my line of business."

"I should imagine." Jemma unwraps the cloth, a small smile playing across her lips as she examines the silver mask in her grasp. "Oh, I haven't seen you in a very, very long time."

"You know who they are?"

"Silurians. They're coming back for what was theirs."

...

She saves the human race (as per usual). All in a day's work.

She receives hugs from Peggy, a kiss from Howard and a polite handshake from Jarvis, and then they're back in the TARDIS, her flying around the console and Fitz perched on the seat with a blanket around his shoulders and a mug of tea in his hands, hair ruffled and a disappointed expression written all over his features.

"You're telling me that you negotiated your way out of human enslavery by the lizard people, scored Margaret Carter's number, managed to snog the father of Tony Stark, and I _slept_ through the entire thing?"

He looks grumpy, and she suddenly feels a pang of fondness, followed by an even sharper pang of fear. It's happening again. She's getting attached, and the same thing always happens when she gets attached. People get hurt. Lives are lost. The blood on her hands could fill up a river. But Jemma is (around) a thousand years old, and she is nothing if not brave. So she plants on an excited expression and flips a switch and smiles at Fitz. "In your defence, you were under the influence of one of Stark's creations. Humans. They're oh so finicky, aren't they?"

Fitz shifts, tea forgotten as he leans forward curiously. "You said you were a Time Lady. That means you're an alien, right? But I've seen enough aliens now to know what to expect. You just look like a normal human. Why?"

"Leopold Fitz. There is nothing normal about humans. Just wait till you see yourself in the future. Besides, I'll have you know that it's not us that look like humans. Really, it's the other way around. We were here first, you see."

"Right," he says, but his tone suggests that he's absolutely clueless. "So you're a Time Lady with.. two hearts. And you travel time and space in a blue police box that's bigger on the outside."

Jemma grins brightly. "Now you're getting the hang of it!"

...

 _"Okay Fitz. We've got all the time in the world, so where would you like to go?"_

 _"Anywhere. Everywhere."_

...

So that's exactly what they do. Jemma and Fitz (her Fitz) travelling the universe, seeking out adventures, running off on new escapades.

They war with the Daleks, trick the Slitheens, re-inspire Shakespeare, rescuethe Silurians. They ally with the Judoons, save Cleopatra from the Vashta Nerada, and dance with Napoleon (who's totally in love with her, by the way). People are saved, battles are fought, secrets discovered and friends lost.

Then there are _those_ days. Days where they don't do anything but sit in the TARDIS listening to its gentle thrum, or go somewhere completely boring and peaceful, like an intergalactic park or planet of the coffee shops.

One particularly uneventful afternoon they sit in the TARDIS, Fitz with his drawing pad and a million sketches thinning out on the paper, and her running around the engines like there's no tomorrow (which technically there isn't, not when you're flying a time machine).

"What are you drawing?" she asks curiously as she runs past, throwing herself at a connection of wires before they short out and implode the universe - as you do.

"Um - nothing," Fitz says. There's a light pause, and once Jemma's finished routing the wires together she pops her head up to frown in concern.

"Is everything okay? If this is bothering you, I can - "

"It's not that," Fitz interrupts hurriedly. He fidgets with his notepad, before he suddenly lurches forward, with all the adorable nerves and anxiety of a human that she can't help but smile. "It's just.. Um.. We're always going off on adventures. You know, imminent danger, creepy new aliens and lots, _lots_ of running. And that's great and all, but.. I was just thinking. About - about home."

"You want to go back," Jemma realises, and with a sinking feeling of regret she finds that she's disappointed. She doesn't want Fitz to leave. Almost a thousand years and she's still so, so selfish.

"Yes! No! Well - yes, but not like that," he blurts. "I want to go home, but.. just for a visit. And I want you to come with me. To.. to get to know some of my friends."

It takes a moment, but slowly Jemma feels her features spin out into a broad grin. She leaps up and spins a dial on the console. "Homeward bound! Pack your things, Leopold Fitz. We're going back to Earth, 2015."

...

To put it nicely, Fitz's era is... plain. There's no ridiculous wars, no fabulous technology, no beautiful surroundings or amazing sights to see. She can see the self-consciousness in his eyes, the nervousness in his movements as he shows her around. Oh, humans. Even after all this time, she can't help but admire them. Their lives so short, their minds so filled with petty worries that really, it's quite adorable.

So she makes a point to kick up a fuss about how tasty the local fish and chip shop is, chatters on and on about it being the age of 'revolutionary science' and talks all about his generation and the things they'll achieve.

She knows she's laying it thick, but he's grinning widely at her, and really, that's all that matters right in this moment and time.

All of time and space, and after all these years, Jemma's realised the most important time is the present moment and the people you share it with, the people you treasure such memories with.

Their first stop is somewhere in Scotland, parked right on the corner on one of those tiny suburban alleys, those old fashioned ones where the mailman gets around on a bike, where all the people know each other and the local communities are so tiny it's quaint.

Fitz runs straight up to a small little stone-bricked house with flowers in the window boxes and a puff of smoke spiralling from the chimney, and the excitement with which he knocks reminds her of a little kid going to school for the very first time.

The woman who answers the door is kindly looking, with brown eyes and Fitz's golden hair and a scent of freshly baked cookies about her. "Leo? I thought - I thought you were over in America!"

"Well, I'm here now," Fitz announces, and before long they're embracing, hugging so tightly that Jemma briefly wishes she had a mother of her own to return home to. Or even a home, full stop.

It's a long moment before either of them look up, but Jemma's all too happy to sit by and watch with a small smile.

"Leo! You've brought a guest!"

"I'm Jemma," she supplies helpfully. Without missing a beat, she flashes her physic paper.

Mrs Fitz looks pleasantly surprised. "So you work with Fitz?"

"Um.." Admittedly, she's not entirely sure where Fitz works, but she's sure it's perfectly fine. The cons of phsycic paper, she supposes. "Yes," she decides quickly, flashing Fitz a look for him to play along, "I do.. Mrs Fitz."

"Call me Rachel," Mrs Fi - _Rachel_ says with a great big smile. They spend the evening at the cosy Fitz cottage, snacking on biscuits and drinking tea, and it's not as boring as Jemma had pictured normal time to be (in fact, far from it).

When Fitz pops up to go back to the bathroom, Rachel leans over and covers Jemma's hand in her own, offering a warm smile. "I've no clue who you are, Jemma, but you've done my Leo a world of good. I haven't seen him smile so brightly since his gran passed away, the poor wee thing. I think it'd be wise to keep you around, dear. How'd you possibly manage to do it?"

Jemma squeezes this woman's hand, notes her obvious love for her son, notes the way the fire burns bright at the hearth. "Your son is a credit to the human race."

"I'm sorry?" Rachel looks rather confused, but all Jemma does is laugh lightly.

"Inside joke."

...

Their next stop is inside some sort of base. The weapons stored in the corner and the sheer amount of life signs showing up on the scanner are enough to make her uneasy, but this is where Fitz works (and seemingly adores), so she puts up with it and follows him out of the TARDIS. There's something eerily familiar about the place, but before she can pinpoint it a group of people round the corner.

To their credit, they don't seem the slightest bit surprised to see Fitz with a mystery woman, but Jemma's ground to a halt, dread pooling in the bottom of her stomach.

"Hello," greets the man in lead of the group, a wry smile on his features. "I'm Phil - "

" - Coulson. Yes, I know," she finishes, throat dry. Without warning, she grips Fitz tightly by the arm. "Excuse me. We need to talk."

...

"You work for _SHIELD_?" she all but yells at him, words bouncing off the empty lab they've crashed.

Fitz seems suitably surprised. "Yeah. I've been here since I was seventeen. Attended the Academy before Coulson asked me to join the team. Is there - is everything okay?"

Jemma tugs a hand through her air, pressing her fingers to her temple as she paces. "And you never thought to mention this to me?"

"It didn't exactly come up in a conversation!" Fitz says, voice high in defence. "Besides, I didn't think it mattered!"

Suddenly she whirls until she's nose to nose with him (even if she has to stand on her toes), eyes blazing in the fury only one of her age can possess. " _Everything_ matters, Leo. Nothing is a coincidence, and - and - " She can feel herself cracking now, the emotions slipping through her words as she struggles to hold back a thousand years worth of bottled up tears. "I should _never_ have brought you with me."

He recoils like it's a physical punch to the gut. "A thousand years old, two hearts, a time machine and you're still the same as everybody else."

"And how's that?"

"Because you let me down."

Then he's gone.

Now it's just her, sobbing alone in a lab, the oldest, kindest soul in the Big Wide Universe, and not a soul to share it with. Because in the end, like always, everybody always leaves, and she's left to repeat the pattern like an overused record that's long since been broken.

...

He always seems to know where to find her.

She's tucked up in the warmth of the TARDIS, embraced in it's safety, seeking comfort in the one sole companion that's stuck with her throughout the years.

Fitz shuffles uncomfortably at the staircase as he watches her fiddle with the wires and insist on avoiding his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I didn't mean - that was out of line."

She offers him a consoling smile. "Fitz, I live outside the line."

"Right. Yeah," he smiles, and she knows he understands that all is forgiven, because human lives are too short to waste on arguments, not when she spends each day watching him fade further and further away. "I'm just - I'm sorry. But the SHIELD you know - or the SHIELD you thought you knew, that's not this. Coulson's a good man. These people.. they're my friends. My family."

There's a long pause. Eventually Jemma pulls off her goggles and swings gently in her harness. "Did I ever tell you about my last... companion?" He shakes his head no, and she laughs softly. "No, of course not. His name was Antoine Triplett."

"Trip."

"You know him?"

"He was the.. the best."

"Wasn't he just? We travelled together, him and I. The unstoppable duo. He had so much charm, so much.. light. I was stupid enough to believe it would last forever. I.. I dropped him off at SHIELD for the weekend. Popped off to celebrate Queen Elizabeth's birthday. When I got back.. Well, you know the story. I never... I never got to say goodbye."

Fitz fidgets, but Jemma's too busy staring at the wires in her grasp to notice. "Were you in love with him?"

"Given more time... I think I could have been," she admits, and it's like a weight lifts off her chest, feels like she's so feather light that she feels dizzy.

"I'm sorry," Fitz says sincerely.

"It's not your fault," she amends. "But now you understand. I can't go back to SHIELD, Fitz. Not again. Not ever."

"You don't have to go back. I'm not asking you to go back," Fitz says, sounding so fiercely determined that she can't help but glance up at him. "But there's something here. At the Playground, I mean. It's alien and it's dangerous, and you're the only person I know who can save us. So - please."

The silence seems to stretch for all eternity, and for a moment Jemma actually considers it. Actually considers running away for once, letting the human race solve their problems all on their own. Why is she the one who's always left to save the day? What would happen if she just disappeared, drifted off in her magic blue box and never came back?

Then, she gets to her feet. "What kind of alien are we speaking?"

...

Surprisingly, Fitz's team are welcoming. She recognises them from a mix of both Trip and Fitz's descriptions. There's Coulson, a kindly man with the weight of SHIELD on his shoulders, and there's May, a poised, stoic woman who seems to hide more than she reveals. Then there's Skye, the witty girl with powers and a comment to make at every turn. The list goes on and on - kickass Bobbi, out-spoken Mack, grumpy Hunter, newbie Lincoln.

A few questioning looks, interrogations of authority and running around the base later, Jemma's seated in Coulson's office, examining the various decoration pieces contemplatively.

The team stares at her, all totally distrusting except for Fitz, who seems incredibly uncomfortable as he shifts from one side to the other.

"You're facing an infestation problem," Jemma announces finally, wincing as she accidentally snaps one of the ornaments, hurriedly attempting to put back into place.

"Infestation? Infestation of what?" Skye asks disbelievingly.

"A race called the Silence. I've faced them before, a long time ago," she explains.

"The Silence," Hunter scoffs. "And you seriously want us to believe that we're being overrun by aliens? Sorry Fitz, but I think your girlfriend has got to set her priorities straight."

Fitz opens his mouth, a deep shade of pink, but Jemma spins in her seat and eyes Hunter easily. "The Silence can only be remembered while you're looking at them. You look away - even for a second - and they erase themselves from your memory. It's impossible to tell you what they look like. You won't even know you saw anything."

"Seems like the ideal alien," Bobbi says, scepticism clear in her voice. "We can't remember them. This doesn't prove that they're real."

"With all the things that have been happening lately, I'm almost ready to believe you," Coulson admits.

Jemma leans forward, eyes alight in the way they do once she's discovered something. "But you've already seen them."

"What?"

"Look on your arms," Jemma remarks, peeling her own sleeve back. Black marker lines pattern her arms. "Each tally marks a Silent that you've seen. It's the only way to remember that they're still here."

"Okay," Skye says, "I'm getting seriously freaked out right about now."

"Trust me," Jemma says with a small smile. At the large group's unconvinced looks, she points to Fitz instead. "If not, trust him instead. Fitz?"

"Yeah," he nods, all bravado (and perhaps the tiniest bit of smug pride?) as he lets his sleeve slide back down over his arm. "I trust her."

"Then it's settled." (that's the only thing May's said all day) "Tell us what to do."

...

When everybody's rushed off to set up the ingenious trap that Jemma's concocted, she's more than thoroughly surprised when the girl, Skye, sticks around, hovering at the door.

"There's nothing for me to do," she explains at Jemma's questioning look. "I've set up all the systems already."

Jemma nods and the moment is awkward. A thousand years of experience and yet she still can't quite work out what to say and how to say it. Thankfully for her, Skye seems to know just what to do.

"You're not a human, are you?"

Jemma glances up in momentary surprise, mouth parting as she abandons her work for a second. "How'd you guess? Was it the two hearts?"

"Wait, you have two hearts?" Skye laughs joyously, perching herself on the desk as Jemma returns back to fiddling with the trap systems. "Dude, that is _seriously_ cool."

"Two lessons - I am not your dude, and I am almost indefinitely cool," she clarifies without looking up.

"Okay, you've got some beef with us," Skye allows, shrugging. "It's cool. There used to be a guy in the basement - wasn't too fond of him either. The thing is.. I was thinking we could talk. Or you could give me some advice.. or something."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not human either."

That grabs her attention. She snaps her head up and draws her screwdriver out in a flash, scanning a startled Skye. The readings flash and for a moment, Jemma can feel her exterior melting away for this young girl, some of the previously harboured hatred seeping away, dribble by dribble.

"Oh, Skye. _Skye_. It's all about you, isn't it? Be brave, okay? Because you, Daisy Johnson, are going to be brilliant."

"How do you - "

"Spoilers," Jemma winks. "What year is it? 2015? Oh yes, you've got quite a road ahead of you. Inhumans, that's what you're calling it, right? Isn't this terribly exciting! I'm witnessing the birth of..."

Skye frowns, looking utterly confused. "Jemma? What's wrong?"

"That's it!" Jemma jumps up and down in excitement. "I know how to defeat the Silence!"

...

Her plan goes wrong.

The traps backfire, and the Silence only get angrier. With every passing moment, more and more black marks begin to appear on people's skin. Her own arms are riddled with tallies, and when she looks into the reflection of the window she can see them spiralling across her face too, beginning to bleed their way down her neck.

"Is this it, then?" Fitz whispers to her, somehow sounding brave amidst all the terror. "The end of the human race?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jemma says quickly, eyeing his team mates, who are huddled in the corner, looking incredibly scared. "I know how you lot end up. Give it a thousand years and you'll be soaring among the stars, travelling in colonies to find a new home."

"But you said.. You always say that time can be rewritten."

She turns, and now she can see the fear pooling in his blue eyes, the doubt and fright and yet _faith_. Faith in who, she wonders. Not her, surely.

"Do you trust me?"

He licks his lips nervously, but his gaze is unwavering. "Yeah."

"I won't let anything happen to you," she tells him firmly.

"And my friends? What about them?"

"Nothing will happen to them. I promise," she says stubbornly. "I swear on the rest of my lives."

Her arms encircle him for a hug.

(neither want to let go)

\- and later; "wait, you have _lives_? As in plural? More than one?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So do you actually have a plan? Because right now, I'm getting the vibe that you're just some psychotic woman with a glowing stick," Mack announces, and Jemma has to try hard not to stick her ttongue out at him like a stubborn playground child. Instead, she settles for wrinkling her nose at him. Triplett had warned her about Alphonso Mackenzie. Loyal to a fault, but undoubtedly opinionated and blunt; known for his honesty.

Then again, he may indeed speak the truth. So instead she waves the sonic at him cheerfully. "It's a screwdriver, actually."

"Jemma."

Oh, and that would be Coulson. She can see why he's the leader of the organisation (although she'd been torn between May at first). "I know that you're Fitz's friend, and I know that he trusts you, and I also know that you're experienced in these situations, given your.. well, rather questionable space ship. But I've also heard about your thoughts on SHIELD, and I need to know.. Can _we_ trust you?"

It's a heavy question, and for a few moments she hesitates. Because this is the simple weight of the matter - can _anybody_ trust her? After all the things she's done, all the things she's seen, all the civilisations she's failed and the enemies she's gained in her long, long life... Is it honestly right of her to ask these people to lay their lives down for her?

So instead she swallows her doubt and looks him straight in the eye. "I don't know," she answers truthfully. "But I know that I'm going to try."

And unexpectedly, out of the blue, "I'm with you." May stands, gaze unwavering as she cocks her pistol.

Jemma's not entirely sure how or why she's convinced May to side with her, but a smile curls it's way onto her lips regardless. "Thank you. But, uh," she pauses with a nervous look, "no guns. Or any weapons at all, actually."

Bobbi frowns slightly as she folds her arms like a disapproving mother (ah, mothers. a universal understanding). "I thought you said these aliens were dangerous?"

"They are," Jemma admits. "Actually, they can order you to anything you want. You won't even remember it. Also, they have a rather fascinating ability to kill with an energy discharge."

"And you're asking us _not_ to arm ourselves against these creatures?" Lance splutters.

Jemma can't help but sigh. Sometimes humans really are all the same. Dense. Honestly, why should she bother saving them over and over again? Moments like these make her question her choices. But then she catches a glimpse of a team photo on Coulson's desk, notes the way Bobbi sneaks her hand into Lance's to calm him, gaze lingers over Fitz and Skye and the rest of their team, and she's reminded again of why she fights so hard for the human race and why she will continue to do so until her very last breath.

"I've been around for a very, very long time, Hunter. I should be celebrating a thousand years in roughly... oh, about twenty-two hours."

"I really need to find out what kind of moisturiser you use," Skye wolf-whistles jokingly.

"I've saved more people than you can think of. I've lived longer than you could possibly hope for. I've gained and lost and fell to my knees without another hope in the world, only to be saved by the people I love." Gently, Jemma reaches forward and plucks the gun out of his hand, placing it on the table with a ginger expression. "So I suggest that you listen to me."

Lance stares at her, astonished beyond belief, but she's gratified when Fitz comes to stand next to her, placing his own weapon onto the table. "I'm with Jemma. I trust her completely."

(she tries not to smile when he slips his hand into hers. the others abandon their weapons without another word - except for Lance, who can't help but complain his way through the whole situation; as per usual)

...

"Oh my god," Skye breathes. "Is it just me, or does it look kinda like that famous Scream picture?"

Jemma can't help but smirk, although they're facing an oncoming attack of three Silents, and the moment she looks away she'll forget exactly why she's running for her life. "Where did you think Edvard got the inspiration from?" It's all camaraderie in the face of danger, playful banter to keep Skye (and herself) on her toes. Rapidly, she draws three quick lines on her neck and then tosses the marker to Skye.

"What, so he could remember them?" Skye asks as they scramble backwards, furtively trying to get away.

"No, he couldn't. But they've always been in your self-conscious. Ever wonder about the men in black? Or perhaps those funny grey things with big eyes that you humans seem so determined to label as Martians? What about ET? Hel- _lo_!" With a sinking feeling, Jemma swallows as they stumble back and suddenly hit the wall. Dead end. This is _not_ how it ends. It can't possibly be, not with all these people counting on her.

"Always? What do you mean by _always_?" Skye's voice is strong, but it's a higher pitch, and Jemma knows enough to tell that the other girl's reached the same conclusion.

"I mean, this isn't so much of an infestation. More like, well, an uprising."

" _What_?"

"They've been here for as long as you," she explains, clicking on her screwdriver and pointing it at the Silent. As she'd expected, nothing happens. "Maybe even longer. You humans have always thought you were alone, but really, you've just been sharing your planet for as long as time can remember."

"So we're forcing them out of their own home," Skye says, and Jemma's surprised to find that the other girl's tone is serious, maybe even a little sad.

"This isn't exactly the best time for you to feel sorry for them," Jemma shouts, as the Silent creeps forward ever so menacingly, taking it's sweet time as the pair frantically search for a route of escape. "They support an organisation that's trying to kill me! You know, just as a point of interest!"

"Sorry," Skye winces. "It's just.. I know what it's like to be kicked out of home."

Jemma lowers her defences in empathy, suddenly finding a new light in this girl and the SHIELD she supports, the very things she (and her entire species) represent.

Not exactly the smartest move, considering their current predicament. Before she knows it, a thousand volts of electricity are charging through her veins, spilling into her soul and her brain. Dimly, through the pain, she registers the screwdriver slipping from her grasp, and a high-pitched noise splitting the air. She isn't quite sure whether it's herself screaming or Skye.

Reality fades in and out. Flashes of past lives, past companions, all the things she's ever seen and done and _survived_. This is what happens every time she regenerates. In some ways, it's worse than the pain of dying. At least then, there's no guilt. When you're a thousand years old and counting, there are things far worse than death.

There's a shout.

She hits the floor.

...

When she wakes up again, she's draped in a blanket. It's an unfamiliar experience for her, wrapped up safely in bed, feeling like she's protected from the world. The perks, she supposes.

Before she can register much, a familiar face swoops in and stares down at her, locks of brown hair tickling at her nose, and eyes crinkled in obvious relief.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're awake. We didn't think you were going to make it. All our equipment started going haywire when we hooked you up to it, and I'm pretty sure Fitz was losing his mind with stress," Skye sighs.

Jemma's eyes fly open and she jolts up, even though her mind is still frazzled and she's seeing three of everything (unless Skye has taken some tips from one of the Koenigs?). "Fitz!" she gasps, attempting to throw the sheets off and organise a search party.

Skye rushes forward just in time to catch Jemma as she all but collapses, knees weak with the effort and her head beaded with perspiration. "Hey, take it easy, okay? You somehow miraculously survived that weird bolt of laser energy from those Silence things. You have to be careful."

"But - Fitz... Is he alright?" she manages blearily, pausing between words as she starts to slip back into the realm of sleep, even as she fights desperately to stay awake. Skye helps her back into the hospital gurney gently, patting down the blankets for her.

"He's okay," she assures. "He saved us, you know. I could barely get him to leave your side, but he's a little.. busy right now."

Jemma wants to tell Skye something useful, like a tip on how to destroy the Silence, or a warning to protect Fitz, or some sort of magical serum to make everything better. Instead, her eyes flutter back closed.

...

This time, there's no face hovering above hers. At least the headache and wooziness have subsided, although the lights still seem far too blinding and she's not sure whether the ringing in her ears is supposed to be there or not.

With a small groan, she pushes herself up, blinking blearily at the lights. Skye's not here anymore, but a familiar figure hovers at the end of the gurney. He's got his back to her, tapping away at some sort of Earth tech with concentration, but she's certain she could recognise those curls and that pearly grey sweater from a mile away.

"So I hear you saved the day."

Fitz whirls, his eyes wide. "You're awake!"

He rushes forward and then halts at the last second, like he's unsure. With a laugh, she pulls him in for a tight hug. It's another one of those things that she hasn't had in a long time, unfamiliar like Earth rituals or the various new pieces of tech humans keep popping out like babies.

"Of course I'm awake," she tells him comfortingly, hands tightening around him. "Honestly, did you think a little bit of eletrocution would stop me?"

"It almost did," he mumbles into her shoulder. "One of your hearts stopped. We tried everything, but we didn't know if you were going to make it. I thought.. Well, I thought you were going to leave me."

"Leopold Fitz. Would I ever do such a thing?"

"You are kind of unexpected like that."

"That is true," she concedes. Suddenly, the gears in her mind click into place and she jumps, tearing herself away from the hug. "The Silence! We have to stop them - how long have I been out?"

Fitz reaches out to still her movements with a hand and a smug smile. "Jemma, it's fine. The Silence are gone. Didn't I tell you that I saved the day?"

Slipping back into bed with wide eyes, Jemma is reminded once more how impossibly brave humans really are, with their tiny brains and their singular heart. "And I slept through the entire thing?"

He grins. "Now you know what it's like."

...

Despite the antsy feeling in her gut telling her to flee, they stick around to help repair the base. Fitz sweeps and clears up debris, while Jemma flies around fixing up anything she can with the screwdriver.

(it's not a lot of help - the sonic doesn't work on wood)

Oddly, she's found that the people of SHIELD have started to grow on her. While there's still a large part of her heart that hates them for what happened to Triplett, she's started to notice the little things about them. It's only the little things, only the things that are infinitesimal on a big scale that really strike her hard.

They're not so much an organisation but a _family_ , and that's so purely human that she can't help but hate them just a tiny little bit.

Because they have what she never can, not when she's so terribly alone in such a vast universe. There are brief moments when Jemma is left to her own devices, when she's left to contemplate her lonely life and her sad story and recount all the losses she's ever suffered, ever endured.

And then there's Fitz; sweet, innocent, grumpy, Leopold, as he waves her over to join him in his recounting of the fantastic tales that they've lived.

"...and there were monkeys too, can you believe that? I mean, sure, they were kind of purple and sort-of alien, but they still had those adorable little monkey hands," Fitz is just saying when she wanders over.

Skye is slightly wide-eyed as she sweeps shards of glass into a dust and pan absent-mindedly. "That's so cool," she laughs. "Are you seriously saying you can go anywhere in space?"

"And time," Jemma quips helpfully.

"And I thought Thor was cool," Skye remarks. Abandong her cleaning without second-thought, she throws her arms around Fitz in a tight hug. "I'm going to miss you, little guy. You better visit at least once every two months, okay? I know saving the world is all important and all, but if you forget all about us, your DWARVES are going to get some serious renovations."

"Yes ma'am," Fitz teases, but Jemma's heart warms when he squeezes Skye's arm. "I'll miss you too. We'll bring back souvenirs next tine, yeah?"

"Practically guaranteed," Skye announces. Then, unexpectedly, she flings her arms around Jemma. Awkwardly, Jemma leans into the embrace as Skye leans down to whisper in her ear. "Look after him, okay? He's kind of grumpy sometimes and you should never disturb him before nine o'clock, but I've seen the look in his eyes, and.. I know he'll follow you to the ends of the Earth. So here's my request - _don't let him_. He's brave, but he's stupid for such a clever guy. And if there's one thing I know about love, it's that... it makes you do stupid things. So yeah. You look after him, okay?"

"Skye," Jemma breathes. "I would never let anything happen to him. Ever. I've had a lot of.. travellers, but this is different. Fitz is different. He has a family here. I promise, I'll return him to you safe."

"Um, guys?" Fitz pipes up, and Skye pulls away with a satisfied smile.

"I promise I will," Jemma reassures.

"I'm holding you to that promise, Time Lady."

"What promise?" Fitz frowns. "Hang on - Jemma! You can't just say that and not tell me anything. Skye! Why does nobody ever tell me anything? Guys?"

...

She's standing beside the TARDIS, leaning on it's sturdy blue walls while she watches Fitz hug and laugh and stumble his way through goodbyes to the rest of the team. She'd be lying if she says she doesn't feel left out, but the truth is she's used to it by now.

Because this is the reality; her lonely old self travelling all by her little old lonesome. She remembers something a girl had said to her once, a long time ago.

("we're just stoppers for you, aren't we? us companions. you keep us to plug up the holes.")

 _"It's not like that,"_ she'd said back then, but she knows now that it is. Countless others. All unforgettable, all astonishing in their own, complete way.

"Will we be seeing you again, Jemma?" Coulson's voice snaps her out of her thoughts and she starts.

"Sorry? Oh - I mean - possibly. Maybe. Of course, Fitz will come back for visits and aliens will inevitably return with a new masterplan to destroy the human race," she rambles cheerfully, but upon the agents' slowly whitening expressions, she gives them a bright big smile. "But yes. For now, this is goodbye. We'll meet again. Of course, I can't guarantee that it'll be in the right order - time travel is tricky that way - but if you ever need help, you know who to call."

"Thank you," May speaks up, even as she holsters the gun that makes Jemma (more-than) uncomfortable. "For everything."

"I'll miss you," Skye says with a smile. "If you two don't come back, _I'll_ be the next monster wanting to destroy Earth."

"So come with us, then," Fitz says unexpectedly. Then, as if seeming to remember himself, "if that's okay with Jemma."

"There's always room for more," Jemma nods her acceptance.

"Then come with us, Skye. Just for a little bit. Just to see what it's like. You've always wanted to travel - now we're offering you all of existence, all of _creation_."

"And more," she adds helpfully.

Skye stares at them with wide eyes, mouth parted ever-so-slightly. "You're actually being serious? I mean - don't get me wrong, I'd _love_ to, but I have a job here now. Responsibility. A life. And a lot of figuring out to do, because," she flexes her fingers, "as cool as these bad-boys are, I don't want to accidentally topple Mount Everest over or anything."

" _Welll_ , we _do_ have a time machine," Jemma points out cheekily. "We can be back in five minutes. Five seconds, even."

"SHIELD will still be here when you get back," Coulson says when Skye looks to him for approval.

Skye's lips start to broaden out into a thoughtful smile. "There _is_ just one place I'd like to go."

...

They step out into the world, her and Fitz.

"When are we, exactly?" Fitz asks. "And where?"

"China," is her simple answer. "1988."

They stand next to the oddly placed blue box, watching as up ahead, the figure of Skye talks animatedly to a couple and their young baby. Jemma grins as she watches Fitz starting to fit all the puzzle pieces together in his mind.

"Hang on - is that - "

"Skye's family, yes," Jemma confirms with a knowing smile. "That over there is Jiaying, Cal, and their sweet, pretty little daughter Daisy Johnson. This is before it all went down the drain, essentially."

"So they really did love her," Fitz says quietly as Skye offers a stuffed toy to (rather oddly) her younger self. "All this time. She grew up thinking that her parents abandoned her. That she was all alone."

"Nobody is ever completely alone," she tells him gently. _Except me,_ that nasty little part of her mind whispers cruelly.

He seems to read her mind because, shyly, he reaches down and brushes her fingers with his own. "Yeah."

His eyes are the bluest of blue and his brain is spitefully brilliant and his heart is as pure as Jim the Fish's habitat (long story), but she is immortal and he's.. well, he's _not_ , so she pulls her hand away and runs through the field of flowers instead, wind rushing through her hair and a laugh spilling from her lips as she rejoices in the feeling of being alive.

"Wait for me!" he shouts after her.

"You'll never catch me," she taunts as races off. The last time she's done something so completely wild and playful is when she was a child of mere seventy, swooping through the beautiful scenery of Gallifrey with her friends.

"But I can try," he returns, stumbling over his shoes as he chases after her, the time-lady and her companion, an eternal game of Follow the Leader.

(oh, do they run)

...

Later, when they've dropped a misty-eyed Skye back home and the TARDIS is drifting gently in the midst of space, they sit with the doors wide open, their legs hanging out into the black swirls of space and stars and glorious galaxies, a picnic tucked between them and the whole of the universe at their feet.

"What is this?" Fitz exclaims, voice muffled from around the sandwich he's digging into. "It's amazing."

"Prosciutto and buffalo mozzarella - with just a hint of pesto aioli," she answers happily. "Picked that up on a trip to Italy.. oh, I think about twenty or so years ago. The citizens were feeling particularly inspired after I saved them from the Atraxi - for the second time, mind you. Those aliens really do love their pasta."

"You're mad," Fitz laughs.

"No," she considers. "Just very, very old."

They settle into companionable silence, because right now it feels like they have all of eternity ahead of them, just her and this blue-eyed boy with his big thoughts and big brain and bigger heart.

And then, she breaks it.

(all good things come to an end)

"You. And Skye. Um - I was just - I mean.. Were you two ever..?"

"A thing? You mean - romantically?" Fitz asks, eyes wide.

"And - um - sexually," she adds, blushing to the tips of her ears. Honestly, you'd think she'd have a better grip on this by now, after all this time she's spent travelling and socialising, saving worlds and burning civilisations.

"No!" Fitz splutters. "Skye and I - never!"

"So you never..? I mean, she's really very pretty - "

"It's not like that," Fitz says strongly, surprising her (again). "We're friends. She.. Skye hasn't exactly had the best history with love."

"Grant Douglas Ward," Jemma nods knowingly, clicking her tongue.

Fitz blinks. "Right. I keep forgetting that you know practically everything." Well, it's the perks of time travelling, she wants to say. "There was a point in which... well, I had feelings for her. But then..." He trails off, suddenly looking embarrassed as he studies his sandwich a fierce intensity.

"Yes?" she prompts, corners of her lips twitching up into a sun-filled smile.

"Why do you ask?" Fitz switches the conversation suddenly.

"You didn't finish your sentence!"

" _You_ didn't answer my question," he counters with just as much snark.

"You didn't want to finish your sentence," she concludes teasingly.

"And _you_ didn't want to answer my question!" he retorts with a smirk.

In the midst of all their arguing, Fitz's sandwich wrapper slips from his grasp and promptly drifts out into the atmosphere. All arguments forgotten, they pause their bickering to watch the greasy white paper float through space.

"Great," Jemma groans. "Now I'm going to be fined. The police hate littering - wastes an awful lot of time and resources. It's all about recycling and ecosystems these days, really."

"Do you even _have_ money? Wait - scratch that, there are _space_ police? Have you ever gotten a parking ticket? Because the way you fly the TARDIS - honestly, it makes me cringe."

(and on it goes)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N** : Can you believe I actually googled a Judoon to English translator for this fic? I did. But I'm not really regretting it!  
Sorry that this chapter is a little bit shorter, but I wanted to get it out in time for the season three premier tomorrow! Hopefully this will cheer you up in just the slightest, or at least prepare you for tomorrow, because I've got no doubt that the episode is both going to be spectacular and heartbreaking at the same. At any rate, I hope you enjoy! Do tell me what you think about it.  
For those of you who don't know, I am justanotherhappyending on Tumblr, in case you were curious ;)

* * *

 **you can be alice (and i your mad hatter)**

"Yo plo tro - blo ro flor - tro no do flo ro - blo ro ro flo so to."

" _What_ , exactly, are they?" Fitz hisses through his teeth, alternating between staring wide-eyed at the aliens and glaring at Jemma with all his might.

"Judoon, police enforcers of the galaxy," she explains with a cheery smile, even as the aliens hold up their guns threateningly. "As you can see, they're not afraid to shoot anybody who gets in their way. Well.. actually, they might spare me. Did I ever mention that I'm the last of my kind? But you humans.. oh, there's billions of you. You're like rabbits. Or weeds. Either way, no harm's really done in their eyes if just one of you is killed."

"Thanks," Fitz says, tone oozing with heavy sarcasm. "Great. Fantastic. Just what I need. _Oh, Jemma! You're such a morale booster! I can see why everybody loves you!_ "

Jemma holds her hands up in the universal sign of surrender and wrinkles her nose at Fitz. "Is that supposed to be an impression of me? Terrible. Thirteen regenerations and not once have I ever sounded like that."

Fitz clams his mouth shut when the aliens advance forward. Three of them stand guard with their weapons, but the leader of the group takes a step and begins to pat her companion down with various beastly grunts.

"Jemma," Fitz squeaks, eyes widened and body stiff in fear. "Is he probing me?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Jemma has to try hard not to burst into laughter right then and there, but really, this is just another average day of travelling in the TARDIS. Also, she doesn't think the Judoon will take kindly to being laughed at. "He's inspecting you, of course. Don't you have routinely checks on Earth? Or haven't they developed security in your time yet? I can never remember with you lot."

"Well, tell him to stop!"

"No can do, Mr Fitzy," she tells him cheerfully. The Judoon gives the all-clear to his mates and moves on to her instead. "They're the police. I'm already in plenty of trouble, I don't want to be a national fugitive as well." He glares fiercely at her, and she rolls her tongue in a playfully reprimanding tut. "Now, don't look at me like that! This is _your_ fault, after all."

" _My_ fault?" Fitz splutters. "So now you're blaming this mess on me?"

Jemma shrugs lightly. "Well, I did tell you not to litter in space. It really does clog up a lot of traffic, you know."

.

.

And that's how they end up being escorted to the national court house of the Shadow Proclamation, cuffs on their wrists and chains drawn tightly across the TARDIS doors.

"All this because I accidentally dropped a paper sandwich wrapper out of the TARDIS?" Fitz whispers to her incredulously. "If I'd known, I would have just recycled, for God's sake. How did they even find us?"

"They're rhino people, Fitz," says Jemma. "I really don't think you're asking all the right questions."

Surprisingly they're put in a pleasant room, with comfy chairs and a broad open-plan view out into the depths of space. Jemma loves it, but Fitz can't help tapping the glass nervously, like he's afraid it'll break. She keeps forgetting that humans from his time aren't quite so used to the whole 'space' thing yet. She throws herself on to the couch and offers him a reassuring smile. Meanwhile, the Judoon steps forward and holds a small device up to her face with a small snuffle. She tries not to make a face at his breath, she really does, but some things you just can't help. Somewhere in her long list of things to do, she reminds herself to introduce aliens to the concept of mint fresh.

"Hello," Jemma tells it instead.

There's whirring and a few clicks, until the Judoon blinks at the flashing red light and finally opens it's mouth once again. "Language assimilated. Earth English, era 2000's."

Jemma beams. "Aren't you clever?"

"How come the TARDIS doesn't translate Judoon?" Fitz asks curiously. He's still hovering next to the window, some distance away from the rhinos.

"They're enforcers of law, Fitz," she says like it's obvious (which it is). "They can get around anything. Fascinating, isn't it?"

"Not really," he grumbles.

A pale woman sweeps into the room, her grey hair pulled up into a tight bun. Her posture screams 'snobby' and 'powerful'. Never a good mix under any circumstance. "I am the Shadow Architect," she announces grandly. Judoon guards pile in behind her, and she points an accusing finger at Jemma. "And _you_ , are impossible."

"Oh, I'm Jemma, actually," she says cheekily, "and this is my friend, Fitz. He's human - Earth origin. Which is a Level 5 planet, in case you've forgotten, so no silly attempts to blow it up again, are we clear?" She glances the Shadow Architect up and down. "Awfully long title there, I will admit. Do you mind if I call you SA?" She promptly carries on without waiting for an answer Great!"

SA shakes her head, her smile without any real genuine emotion. "I see you've dropped your old name. And your old companions, it seems."

Jemma's mood suddenly dips and she feels the urge to clench her fists. "Those were my past selves. I'm different now.

SA's eyes glint sharply. "Tell that to your old friends, Jemma. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. A Time Lord like you should be kept in a museum, not left to wander about of your own free will, with these puppy-dog slaves hindering your every move."

"Time Lady, actually," Jemma corrects. "I have.. womanly bits, see?"

"That does not reduce your worth - nor your friend's, for that matter. Humans always pull in a sharp profit on the market. They make acceptable slaves, good companions. A little dull at times, but every species has it's flaws."

Jemma crosses her arms and frowns. "What happened to you? You're the Shadow Proclamation! The good guys! Since when did you become so corrupt that you started selling people on the black market?"

"Since the criminals started taking over the galaxy," the Shadow Architect points out, a sour note in her tone. "At first we tried to stop them, but after a while.."

"If you can't beat them, join them," Fitz pipes up in realisation.

Jemma feels a swell of pride rise, but she shoots him a reproving look anyway. "Don't _encourage_ our enemies, Fitz!"

"Sorry." He winces sheepishly. "But what do you want with us, anyway? We're just travellers. All I did was drop a sandwich wrapper! By accident! I don't really think that warrants an arrest, even if it _is_ the intergalactic space police running things around here."

SA gives a sharp bark of hyena laughter, and the Judoons chortle in their own, odd snuffling way. "Oh, Jemma. You pick your companions very well, don't you? This one is a right old laugh."

"I am _not_ a right old la - "

"Fitz," Jemma chides. "You must learn not to interrupt the villains when they inevitably share their diabolical plans of destruction, so I can be a genius and work us out of life-threatening situations and continue saving the universe."

"Sorry. Again."

Well, at least he's apologetic, she supposes.

"We're not planning to arrest you, Jemma. Or your friend, for that matter," the woman carries on, paying no attention to the little spat that's just occurred. "You should be documented and dissected, not trapped in a poorly conditioned, terribly uncomfortable jail cell. No, can you imagine how much profit we could pull in for the likes of you two? The Time Lady and her human friend, both stocked with unthinkable amounts of residual time energy. Even your TARDIS is worth a fortune on its own, although we regrettably have to return it to the museum you burgled it from."

"You stole the TARDIS from a _museum_?" Fitz yelps.

"She's done worse things in her time, sweetheart," SA assures.

Jemma pulls a face. "Even out here, it's still the same thing after another. Money. Honestly, is it really worth all this effort?"

"To be fair, not everybody has access to a time machine," Fitz points out from the corner, before adding emphatically, "that you _stole,_ by the way." He pokes curiously at a Judoon, who snorts warningly at him in response. He jumps and takes a few rapid steps back, and she has to resist the heavy urge to roll her eyes at him.

"Don't defend them! They're trying to sell us on the black market!" _Really_ , Jemma reflects, _this is just a whole session on training Fitz in the arts of adventuring. Which, by the way, he's got a lot of learning to do._

"Do all of his kind argue so much?" SA asks incredulously.

Jemma gives her most charming smile and a small shrug to accompany. "They come in varying degrees of indignation. Unfortunately, Fitz seems to have received quite a large portion when he was manufactured."

"Yes," SA nods in agreement. They both ignore Fitz's spluttering. "I can see that. You might want to have him looked at. I'm not sure buyers will be particularly pleased by that trait."

"If you're done discussing my negative qualities," Fitz grumbles, "I was wondering what this button does?"

"What? Wait, _no_ \- " shrieks SA, but it's already far too late. A hand slams down on the (rather obvious, come to think of it) bright red button on the wall. The Judoon blink sleepily and a low rumbling starts to echo up from the bottom of the ship. The Shadow Architect screams in protest, but Jemma can already detect the spirals of smoke beginning to make its way up the ship.

"Run!" she shouts at Fitz. SA wails in horror as the Judoon crumple to the floor.

" _Where?_ " he calls back. "In case you've forgotten, we're in the centre of a - now burning - spaceship!"

The alarms start to wail, and a serene woman's voice blares through the ship. _Self-destruction activated. Please evacuate the premises immediately. Self-destruction activated. Please evacuate the premises..._ Before she can properly think about what she's doing, she scrambles around the various collapsed bodies and grasps Fitz tightly by the hand.

"Let's go, Leopold! No time to waste." She waves her screwdriver at the door and miraculously, it slides right open. The fumes must have disabled the security, she considers.

"Jemma!" a voice suddenly pleads from behind them. It's SA, of course, looking desperate as she kneels next to the highest ranking Judoon commander, trying to rouse him before all hell breaks loose. Not far off, the rumbles are starting to get increasingly louder. The floor starts to shake, and if Jemma's calculations are right (which, let's face it, normally are), they're about to be blown to pieces.

Fantastic.

"Jemma!" Fitz shouts over the piercing sirens. His expression is a (rather adorable, come to think of it) mix of worry and urgency. "Come on, we've got to go!"

She contemplates it, of course, just as she always does. She considers just leaving the Shadow Architect and all her rude rhinoceros soldiers to die. After all, SA had been planning to sell them off to the black market, which was rude by any other means.

But then she takes in SA's stricken face, hears her pleas for help, thinks about all the possible Rhino children she might orphan if she leaves without doing anything. Of course, this reminds her of Skye, with no parents, of Fitz, with no father. Even of her lonely old self, with no proper family to think of. Besides, of course, a batty god-aunt, but that hardly counts.

And just like that, she digs through her pockets and presses a golden key into Fitz's palm, closing his fingers over it for him. "Get back to the TARDIS," she instructs him, even as he's shaking his head, eyes wide. "Use the key. She should open for you. If I don't make it, there's a backup system installed in the database, it should activate by itself, bring you back to Earth by default."

It spills out so quickly it's more like one word than a couple of sentences, but he squares his jaw anyway, trying to pass the key back. "No! I'm not leaving you!"

Jemma smiles at him. "It's not up for debate, Fitz." Isn't it sweet how he thinks he has a say in the matter? "Get the TARDIS up and running - it's the big lever next to the typewriter. Remind me to teach you how to fly her when I get back, yeah?"

He opens his mouth to protest but she's already running, dragging SA after her as they race down to the engine room. Here she is again, saving the universe. Just another day's work, after all.

.

.

They save the Judoon ship. They drop SA off at her home planet, with lots of promises about how she's going to be a better person. And then they climb back aboard their TARDIS and go spinning through the vortex again, until they're just floating aimlessly in space. Jemma thinks that Fitz has had enough adventure for one day.

A ding pulls her out of her thoughts, and she smiles in satisfaction as a brand new sonic lipstick rises up from the console. Regrettably, her screwdriver had been fried during her dangerous escapade with the Judoon ship, but the TARDIS had wasted no time in procuring a more feminine equivalent for her instead. Really, Jemma quite prefers it, although she's not sure what Fitz's opinion about it will be.

Speaking of Fitz, he sits cross-legged on the seat next to the console. His tongue sticks out between his teeth as he concentrates on his next drawing. When she peeks over, she spies that he's sketching the Shadow Architect and her Judoon squad.

He looks up as if he senses her watching. "They're extinct, you know. Rhinoceros, I mean."

"One day they won't be," she assures him, testing out her new sonic lipstick with excitable vigour.

Fitz shifts uncomfortably. "But the Judoon back there…"

"They weren't dead, if that's what you mean. That button you pressed released a local anaesthesia designed as a safety measure in case the Judoon ever got a little out of hand," Jemma explains. "As you might have been able to tell, the Judoon are very enthusiastic about law enforcing."

Fitz hums in understanding and for a moment a comfortable silence takes up the TARDIS. Then suddenly, more on impulse than anything else, she finds herself crossing over to him and extending a hand.

He stares at her in obvious confusion. "Jemma?"

"I think it's time to take you up on my promise," she tells him with a light grin. "Leopold Fitz, it's time to earn your license."

And so that's how she teaches him to fly the TARDIS, together in the still of space, laughing and chattering and occasionally screaming when he pulls the wrong lever and they get thrown aside. He picks it up surprisingly quickly, but that doesn't stop her from getting a little too close to adjust his arms. And if she purposely shifts her hair to the side or both her hearts start speeding up a little too fast, then so be it.

Because it's not just her any more, is it?

It's her and Fitz in the TARDIS, and they'll continue to save the universe together.

(until they don't)

.

.

And later, when she feels a little more confident in his ability to fly and they've taken a break, he shuffles uncomfortably before finally fixing her with his gaze, features locked in determination.

"Promise you won't make me run off again," he says. "Don't do it. I don't like leaving you when it gets so dangerous."

"Fitz.." she tries, but he stops her.

"Promise you won't. Please."

She gives him a smile and a reassuring hand on the shoulder. "I won't."

But it's not a promise.


End file.
